Then She Came Along
by Becky Sky
Summary: She also echoed pieces of himself he wished weren’t there: stubbornness, argumentativeness, and an urge to prove everyone else is wrong. But she did it with such innocence that he felt that his own faults weren’t really faults at all. He loved her for it.


Then She Came Along

**Disclaimer: Don't own Class of the Titans... but I will own the newest Percy Jackson book on May 8th, 2008. WOOT! Can't wait!!**

He still couldn't understand why he loved her. She wasn't necessarily the most beautiful woman on Earth, although to him she was more gorgeous than the tranquil waters of the ocean. But what captivated him was the fact that she mirrored everything he wanted to be: brave, selfless, and kind. She also echoed pieces of himself he wished weren't there: stubbornness, argumentativeness, and an urge to prove everyone else is wrong. But she did it with such innocence that he felt that his own faults weren't really faults at all.

But the thing that made him love her most was that she was his friend, even when she didn't want to be. All his life he had grown up alone; he had been an only child raised on a farm, home schooled, and isolated from the rest of society. Classical poetry had been his refuge when he finally started school and was ostracized by his fellow classmates. Since then, he had grown suspicious, petty, and pessimistic. Since his life had been hard, full of broken bones, a disapproving dad, and an ex-girlfriend who broke his heart, he always saw the cup of life as half-empty, having drained before he could drink its bounty.

He had been almost glad when he discovered he was supposed to save the world. Almost. Although he had had a difficult life, he had gradually adapted to a certain routine: going to school, working hard without talking to anyone during class, and then coming home to the horses. He would avoid conversing with his parents, so he wouldn't see his father's frown at his son's violet tresses, or his mother's worried glance. As far as he was concerned, that was his life, and all he's ever get out of it.

Then destiny came along, with its opportunities and challenges. He'd almost walked out on it. How could he possibly have the chance to save the world when he couldn't even stand up for himself? He couldn't explain to his father why he'd dyed his hair purple, all to impress a girl who had never acknowledged his existence; he'd never tried to explain his complete and utter loneliness from his classmates because of his differences. He was the shy, poor boy at the back of the class, taking notes and too afraid to be scorned to look anyone in the eye. Out of this boy had come the stubborn, belligerent youth who had lived without anyone ever saying 'I love you.' Because he felt as though nobody could possibly love a boy with his attitude, he'd never tried to love anyone else.

He'd never had a friend; he'd never gotten picked in gym to be on anyone's team. To everyone in the world, he was Nobody. Everybody else had forgotten his name. He was invisible, the wallpaper on the walls of the classroom; he was camouflaged from living the life of the normal. He was either totally ignored, or ridiculed for being who he was: a loner. A complete and absolute loner.

Then she came along. Her, with her big lovely eyes and bright red hair that reminded him of fire. The fire that heated in his veins every time he laid eyes upon her; the fire that pulsed through his rapidly beating heart.

When he had first met her, he was leaving, turning his back on the only thing that could set him free. Because he was scared. Oh, fighting a god didn't scare him. It was the fact of being free from his past that frightened the living daylights out of him. What would he do if he couldn't turn back? Where could he go, except to live with a bunch of strangers that may turn out to be as cruel as those from whence he came?

She was foreign and diverse, a part of their species he'd never been able to explore: the woman. Every girl he'd ever known had somehow ignored him, mocked him, or just plain didn't like him. But she, she was different.

The very first time he heard her name, he had had his bag slung over his shoulder like a bindle, ready to leave everything he'd seen behind for the familiar, yet uncomfortable, nook he had become accustomed to; the nook of rhythmical schoolwork, chores, disapproval, and misunderstanding.

He swore he felt a light shiver crawling up his arms. That name sounded so wild and free, a beauty adored and respected by all who knew her. However, the tingle in his arms and the slightly rapid beats of his heart hadn't been enough to persuade him to stay.

But after being attacked by her and her friend, he had felt that pulse in his body hammering, all senses telling him that she was with whom he belonged, forever and ever. Feeling the determination in her swing as she kicked at him, thinking he was a prowler, had made him realize that she was so much more than just a pretty face. She was power, spirited and strong. She was brave, loyal, and full of spunk. While he had never had the courage to say what he meant, she had no qualms about speaking her mind. She was everything he admired in people, everything he had strived so hard to become, and failed to do so.

So he had stayed, and as the years wore on, he could feel everything around him, the people, the gods, the places, wrapping around him to form a snug, serene blanket that replaced his nook. Team mates were no longer just that; they were friends, even like siblings. He now had a sister, four brothers, and a girl who liked him for who he was. He thought everything was perfect.

Now all he had to do was tell her how he felt. But there was a problem: how could he when they argued all the time? His past had left its mark on him; his obdurate behaviour was still clear in the way he nagged at her about all the little things: being the best fighter, being the best friend, and even being the better person. Usually, instead of going out to the movies on a Saturday night, they would be stuck in the dorm arguing, unaware of their exasperated friends as they slammed the doors shut behind them.

One of them always had to win; had to always be right. Yet, through all this, he loved her. He wouldn't want to live without her. Yet she may never know.

It had been three years; three long years of watching her fall in and out of love with someone else, turn evil, and then be snapped out of it. It had been three harrowing years of wishing he had the audacity to step up and kiss her smiling lips without stammering with embarrassment and loosing his self-control. He didn't know if he could stand watching her live without knowing how he felt for another long year; he didn't think he would be able to live in the same house knowing he was so close to her, yet so far.

So that was why, this New Year's Eve, he wandered up to the roof of the dorm to watch the snow fall gently. The rest of the team was downstairs, Herry eating all the donuts that Odie had generously bought. Music blared, and he thought he heard the slow, mellow tones of a slow song. He imagined gathering her in his arms, pressing her against him to keep her warm from the cold. She had grown in the last few years, as had he, and she would be now as tall as him. He could stare into her eyes for as long as he wanted, without her wondering why.

She was there, her lean frame hunched over the edge of the brownstone, staring out at the lights of the city. She wore jeans and a green sweater that brought out her eyes, but he didn't care what she wore; she'd look striking in just about anything. He wandered over, joining her to look out at the bustling streets of New Olympia. People hurried down the streets, heads tucked into their jackets as they fought the wind. He noticed from the corner of his misty blue eyes that her hair had been slightly ruffled by the gusts of wind that tore through the open space. Shrieks of laughter floated up from the living room, and a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"Hey, Arch," she said, acknowledging his presence. He didn't sense any angry vibes, just peace, as though, at least for the day, they could have a truce.

"It's a beautiful night, isn't it?" she asked quietly, turning to face him. He nodded, not trusting him to say anything in case it was dumb.

"You know, I can't believe we're still alive after all this time. I expected one of us to die a long time ago." She looked into his eyes, and he saw in hers a life of trial, heartbreak, and the serenity of accepting the past, and smiling towards the future. "Didn't you?"

He bobbed his head up and down in agreement, and finally found his voice. "Yeah, but I guess we're all survivors, aren't we?"

She grinned suddenly. "To be honest, there are some of us who have survived a lot more than the others could ever imagine." Their eyes met, and he unexpectedly realized that she too had experienced difficulties that emulated his own, and she understood what he had resided through.

Warm, soft fingers seeped through the spaces between his own, interlinking and interlacing like a blanket weaved by the most careful of artists. All the threads belonged together, worked together to make the whole thing feel secure and right. For him, this felt wonderful: right, and like she wanted him to be a part of her. He squeezed her hand tightly, yearning to get closer, but appreciative of the occasion to just feel her beside him. As she breathed, puffs of mist formed in the air, swirling and dancing before dissipating into invisible vapour. Invisible, just like he had been. But not now, not with her beside him, breathing, liking him as a unique individual with a soul.

He was surprised when cloth rustled, and a firm head tucks under his chin in an effort to get closer to him. Thin, wiry arms wrapped around his thick waist, and he embraced her to him. As the music glided through the air from below, they began to sway, dancing slowly to the rhythm of the tune. Her body was pressed against him, close and warm. She shifted her head to look up at him, and he noticed that there is a light in her eyes that he'd never seen before: happiness. She was genuinely happy to be here with him, cradled in his strong sinuous arms as they danced. The thought of the girl, whom he had always loved and admired, finally loving him, made him want to dance quicker; the adrenaline pumping through is veins. But then he would loose the quiet, affectionate warmth of her being so near. So he left everything the way it was, except to lean down and kiss her nose. He couldn't bring himself to kiss her beaming lips.

As far as he was concerned, he wasn't brave enough. He may never be. But in the end, she didn't expect him to. She looked at him, flashed a pearly grin, and then kissed him, long and sweet. He tasted… tangerines and grapefruit. His world stopped spinning, and for a moment everything was still. The still that made you think of peace and harmony, the type of still you wanted to last forever. But like all good things, it didn't last forever. She had to pull away, but she brushed snow from his lashes with such care and love that he still couldn't breathe for fear everything would fade if he did. But he was forced to at last, and to his delight he was still there after he blinked.

"I love you, Archie." Then again, good things could come again, couldn't they?

"I love you, too."

As the music stopped playing, they kept dancing, not to a tune, but to a pulse that radiated from their hearts, a slow drum beat that kept their rhythm.

As he held her close to him, head pressed to his chest, he couldn't help but be grateful to the gods for allowing her to come along.

"I love you so much Theresa," he murmured in her ear, his warm breath tickling her eardrum.

She didn't answer; just nodded and kept dancing. And that was enough for him.


End file.
